Eternity's Mark Read online

  “Is she always this surly?” Gearlach asked, lumbering his great girth in a half circle as Hannah had ordered.

  “Always,” Taggart sighed as he stepped over Gearlach’s tail.

  “Why is she having us turn around?” Gearlach bent his horned head close and nudged Taggart with one of his leathery wings. “Doesna she know the spring water is clear and ye’ve already seen her in all her glory?”

  Slinging the water off her arms, Hannah swallowed a growl as she realized she wasn’t cold anymore. Thanks to these two, embarrassment and fury surged through her veins like a liquid bonfire. Yanking on her clothes, she stumbled and cursed, fighting to pull them on over dripping wet skin. “Taggart!” she snarled through gritted teeth. “You can turn around now and start with the explanations.”

  Taggart clasped his hands behind his back as though he were a schoolboy facing detention. “Where exactly would ye like me to start?”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” Hannah mused with an exaggerated shrug. What the hell was wrong with him? He acted like she wanted to talk about the weather when there was an eighteen-foot creature that shouldn’t exist standing right in front of them. She jerked her chin in Gearlach’s direction. “Why don’t you start with that thing?”

  “Hmmpff!” Gearlach snorted out two great puffs of smoke that curled into the air as he straightened his beard down his rounded belly with his foreclaws. “I will have ye know, I am not a thing. I am a sacred Draecna of Taroc Na Mor, the protected race of the portal keepers. Without us, there would be no time travel or jumping between an endless choice of worlds. As a matter of fact, the continuum itself would cease to exist or remain in balance.”

  “Draecna? Portal keepers? What are you talking about? What exactly is a Draecna?” Hannah edged a bit closer, wrinkling her nose at the distinct smell of sulfur coming from Gearlach’s breath.

  “Have ye told her nothing?” Gearlach asked, nudging Taggart again with the hooked tip of one of his wings. “Septamus is going to incinerate you. Ye know he’s not nearly as civilized and patient as he would have everyone believe.”

  “I have not had the time to explain everything.” Taggart thumped the Draecna’s wing away from his shoulder and fixed Gearlach with a silencing glare. “Hannah, Gearlach is a Draecna. They are sacred beasts who have lived at Taroc Na Mor for longer than your world has been recording time. I meant to introduce ye to them a bit later. Once ye had time to rest and fall in love with your newly acquired land.”

  Hannah studied Gearlach, circling around him as though he were a new patient. She’d never run across anything like this in any of her veterinary textbooks. This thing was absolutely amazing. He loomed the size of a bull elephant, maybe a bit larger. He reminded her a great deal of the pictures of dragons she’d seen in a Celtic mythology class she’d once taken. “Can you breathe fire?” she asked. With the distinct aroma of sulfur he emitted, there had to be some combustible gas stored in that scaled body of his somewhere.

  “Aye! Would ye like to see?” Gearlach inhaled a deep, rumbling breath and prepared to exhale, only to be slapped on the chest by Taggart.

  “No, Gearlach. The last time ye did that we lost fifty acres of trees. How many times do I have to tell ye to think before ye act?” Taggart turned to Hannah with an apologetic shake of his head. “Forgive him. Gearlach is only five hundred years old. He’s very immature and has yet to learn the restraint and reasoning of an adult Draecna. He’s been in my charge since he was just a hatchling. His heart is pure. He’s just a bit impulsive. ”

  “Five hundred years old? And you say he’s been in your charge since he hatched out five hundred years ago?” Hannah clutched at the air, clenching her fists as she tried catching her breath between her pounding heartbeats. She couldn’t have possibly heard him right. Her heart drummed so loud it roared in her ears and then everything went dark.

  “But they are already on Taroc Na Mor land, Sloan. Ye know ’tis sacred ground. The Guild of Barac’Nairn will sentence me to death if I am discovered anywhere within their borders. It is one of the sacred tenets we agreed to in the last treaty.” The cloaked woman stood before an obelisk of crystal, her gaze fixed on a vision of Taggart and Gearlach as they bent over Hannah’s unconscious body.

  Sloan smoothed his hand beneath the frayed hood of her cloak and caressed the silk of her slender neck. Her body tensed beneath his touch and he enjoyed the sensation beyond measure. Sloan’s favorite scent above all others was essence of Mia’s fear. He laced his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck and yanked her face close to his. “Mia, my dearest, my most precious love—” Sloan raked a biting kiss along the edge of her jaw and yanked her trembling body hard against his. “If ye do not do as I command ye, after I have killed them, I will kill you and I promise ye—I will do it slowly.”

  Mia closed her eyes; her hands shook as she passed them in front of the visionary crystal. “Ye know I would never disobey ye, my love. Your happiness is the only desire of my existence.”

  Sloan shoved her away and returned to strolling across the marble-floored room. He pulled a lace-trimmed silk cloth from his sleeve and wiped his hands as though they were soiled. He tired of reminding Mia of her tenuous position in his life. Perhaps her usefulness had neared its end. “Has he bedded her yet?” Sloan twisted the silk between his fingers as he scowled into the mesmerizing flames of the hearth.

  “Not yet, m’lord. Taggart holds his resolve. He is her protector and knows he must not touch her.” Mia kept her eyes lowered and shuffled toward the door as she spoke, returning her tattered hood to cover her bowed head.

  “Ye will not leave my presence until ye are dismissed. Ye know better, Mia.” Sloan didn’t bother turning from the hearth, just waved the dancing orange tongues higher with a single pass of his hand until the grating roared and popped with a white-hot blaze. “There are still a few members of your family living in the outer regions. Do not think I cannot find them and bring them to the killing cells. Corter grows bored with the few prisoners he has left to toy with. He’ll soon run out of victims to disembowel.”

  “Forgive me, my love. But again, I beg you. If there is to be punishment meted out, I ask that ye punish me.” Mia dropped to her knees, closing her eyes as she held her hands out in front of her.

  Sloan laughed, walked across the room, and jerked her chin into his hand so he could hiss against her cheek. “Why, my dearest Mia. Ye know my greatest pleasure is when I make ye watch.” Then he pushed her to the floor and stepped over her cowering body to return to his place by the fire. “Taggart must seduce her. The Sullivan witch must believe herself smitten. It will weaken them for our attack.”

  “They are drawn to each other, but they both fight against it. Taggart prides himself on his word and his honor.” Mia cowered on the floor, her hands shaking as she pushed her hood to her shoulders.

  Sloan turned from the fire and rolled his eyes. The trials he must endure on the path to his dream. Mia had become such a sniveling little beast. “Oh get up, Mia!” Pointing at the crystal across the room, Sloan yanked her up from the floor. “Get over there and see what form ye can assume to win the woman’s trust.” He shook his head; disgust filled his senses as he studied her cowering form. Mia had become a complete idiot incapable of thinking on her own. What had happened to the cunning vixen he’d stolen from Taggart’s side? The seductive minx who’d caused his brother so much delightful pain? Sloan still reveled in the agony and humiliation Mia had put Taggart through when she’d spurned him in front of their people. Now the woman vexed him beyond reason. It was definitely time she was replaced.

  Her shoulders hunched, her bowed head trembling, Mia shuffled over to the crystal obelisk and nodded once at the iridescent shaft. The visions shifted and flickered upon the mirrored surface, searching for the subjects of Taroc Na Mor.

  Taggart sat by the fire, his shirt wadded in one hand, his chin propped in the other. What would he say to her when she awakened? He covered his eyes and shook his head.
He couldn’t believe he’d just blurted it out. How could he have told her he was over five hundred years old? Taggart snorted. Wait ’til she found out how old he really was and that he wasn’t even from this side of the portal. Taggart threw his shirt to the ground and raked both hands through his hair. Hell, wait ’til she found out his age wasn’t the worst of his secrets.

  He peered through his fingers and drew a deep breath. She still lay unconscious, curled on her side under the blanket by the fire. Holy blazes, but she looked fine in the flickering light of the flames; her skin glowed as though she burned from within.

  Hannah stirred a bit and then shivered. Taggart scowled and leaned a bit closer. God’s beard, was the lass unwell? Had she become over-chilled when she’d fainted after swimming in the icy spring? Perhaps the journey from Jasper Mills had been harder on her than he’d thought.

  Taggart laid his fingers to the curve of her throat just beneath her ear. “Hell’s fire,” Taggart hissed. Hannah’s skin seared to his touch; her body blazed with fever. Exhaustion must’ve lowered her defenses, left her vulnerable to some sort of ague.

  He stripped back the blanket and unbuttoned her shirt, hesitating but a moment before he spread his palms across her chest. Hannah’s fevered eyes flew wide open as she squeaked a weak mewling sound of protest.

  “Hush now, Hannah. I only mean to heal ye. Remember how I helped the wee pup back at your office? Just close your eyes and open to the warmth of my touch. My energy will draw the ague from your bones.”

  Hannah stretched to touch his face, her eyes dazed, her pale hand trembling as her breath came in short uneven gasps. “What? Who?” Her tongue darted out and traced her fever-reddened lips as she moved her fingers across Taggart’s mouth. She wriggled closer and pressed her bare breasts against his chest. “So cold. I am so cold.”

  Taggart groaned and took a deep breath. He had to heal her. Ignore the temptation of those sweet breasts. Just heal her, man. “Ye must be still just a wee bit longer please, Hannah. I beg ye. I canna concentrate when ye wiggle.”

  Hannah ran her hands around his waist and climbed her fingers up his back. She pulled herself tighter against his body and nestled her face into the crook of his neck. She kissed the skin beneath his jaw and curled a leg around his hips. “I’m so cold. Just hold me and get me warm... .” Her voice trailed off and her warm breath tickled the skin beneath his ear.

  She trapped him; the velvet of her lips nuzzled against his throat and stole the air from his body. She ran her hands along his face and traced her fingers along the stubble of his jawline. He shouldn’t allow this. He must put her aside. Forbid it. He was her protector. “Hannah ...” Holy blazes, Hannah.

  Hannah wound her fingers into his hair and pulled his head down to hers. She opened her mouth, inviting him in. Her mouth tasted hot as the fire burning behind them. Taggart lost the battle, crushing her to his chest; he buried his hands in the silkiness of her hair. Hannah welcomed him in, molded her body to his; she vibrated against his mouth with a throaty moan.

  Taggart tore himself away from her fiery lips and kissed his way down her throat. With a trembling hand, he cupped a breast and teased a circle around her tightening nipple with his tongue. With half-closed eyes, Hannah arched her back and writhed beneath his touch. As she reached down to fumble with Taggart’s pants, she gifted him with a wicked smile.

  “Jake.”

  “Jake?”

  Taggart froze, then pulled away from Hannah’s tempting body, blinking down into her fevered gaze. God’s beard! She was still addled with fever. Here he was about to break his pledge and she didn’t even know it was him! Dammit to hell, what was he thinking? Hmmpf! He knew what he was thinking and exactly what he was thinking with. Hell’s fire and Draecna scat! He shoved his hand against his aching cock and rolled to his back to stare up into the stars. Risking another glance at Hannah’s parted lips and half-closed eyes, Taggart sent another silent curse up into the starlit night. By Isla’s beard, he’d heal her this time and there wouldn’t be any more blasted distractions! Taggart clenched his teeth and plastered his outspread hand across Hannah’s face, pressing her back against the blankets.

  She batted at his wrists, sputtered, and kicked, as though fighting to breathe.

  “Be still, woman!” Taggart grabbed her flailing arms with his other hand and held them over her head. A bright, golden glow surrounded his fingers, which covered her face, and it flowed all around Hannah’s head.

  Hannah grew still and soon the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest told Taggart she finally slept. Then he spread his hand between her breasts and drew the fever from her body. He lifted his hands, glaring down at her as he clenched and unclenched his fists. He’d almost done it, almost broken the pact. He’d almost tossed it all aside, just so he could feel alive again one more time. He couldn’t resist tracing a finger across her now cooling cheek. Her skin slid as pure velvet beneath his fingertips. He drew a shaking breath and damned the burning ache throbbing the length of his body. His gaze traveled over the rest of her frame. Her breasts had been just as soft.

  This was madness! Taggart tore himself away, stomped to the edge of the clearing and grabbed more wood for the fire. “Gearlach!” he bellowed into the silent darkness. “Where the hell are ye, ye oversized lizard?”

  “I am right here. Must ye bellow? We Draecna do not have the weak hearing of ye half-deaf hybrids, ye know.” Gearlach emerged from behind a pile of boulders, scrubbing his fangs with a branch ripped from a nearby pine.

  “Watch over her!” Taggart barked through gritted teeth with a jerk of his head in Hannah’s direction.

  Gearlach shrugged a half-spread wing, then continued picking at his teeth as he settled down beside the fire. “I can watch over the lass if ye like. But where are ye going to be?”

  “Just watch over her.” Taggart snapped as he stomped down the narrow trail leading to the secluded springs. He didn’t bother stripping off his jeans before diving into the deepest end of the icy pool.

  Something poked her in the middle of her side just below her ribs. Hannah shifted atop the thin padding of the pallet covering the cold, hard ground. That felt worse—now it stabbed her even higher. Either a sharp rock or a clump of dirt dug into her back right above the kidney. The chilled night breeze ruffled her hair across her face and invaded the folds of the plaid gathered loosely about her neck. She shivered, pulled the woolen blanket higher, and scooted over again. She opened one eye, searching for a source of heat, and scowled as she spotted the dwindling flames of the dying fire. This was ridiculous. An involuntary shudder rattled her teeth until she almost bit her tongue as another chill stole across her flesh. That fire needed stoking with a lot more wood. Time to build the inferno. Hannah yanked the blanket tighter around her shoulders and rolled to scan the clearing.

  “Taggart?” Her voice echoed off the sheer wall of the cliff and faded out into the darkness.

  The nocturnal woods stood murky and silent except for the shushing of the wind through the swaying tops of the pines. Hannah swallowed hard against a passing moment of homesickness. She missed the sweet night songs of her mountain back home, the chirp of the crickets, the ching ching of the katydids tucked away in the trees. Why had she left her safe little sanctuary and wandered halfway across the globe?

  “Taggart!” Hannah hissed again. Still no response. Taggart appeared to be missing in action. Apparently, he’d left her alone. Well, maybe he’d needed to pee. Hannah rubbed her nose with an irritated shiver. That didn’t change the fact that the ground radiated the cold and the fire burned as low as a birthday candle. She’d just have to get her own firewood.

  Worming her way to her feet, she hitched the blanket higher around her shoulders, then paused as the material scratched against her bare skin. Bare skin? Wait a minute. As she peeped down between the folds of the rough woolen blanket, Hannah gasped at the sight of her ruined blouse baring her chest and hanging from her shoulders in shreds. The buttons were gone, pop
ped from the threads; the holes were tattered as though they’d held the buttons just a bit too long.

  Hannah stepped closer to the circle of firelight and spread the blanket wide. Branded between her creamy breasts appeared a bright red imprint of a very large hand.

  “Taggart!” Her enraged cry echoed across the mountain as she kicked a nearby log into the fire. Embers crackled and popped up into the darkness, sending a beacon of sparks spiraling into the night. What the hell had he done while she slept—branded her as if she were some sort of cow?

  Taggart stormed out of the shadows, his claymore fisted between his hands and swinging in a menacing arc above his head. His icy eyes flashed as he burst into the clearing, his body poised for the attack. Bare-chested, hair loose and dripping rivulets down tensed muscles of his body, he looked like a wild barbarian in the half-light of the fire. “What is it, Hannah? What threatens ye?”

  “Nothing threatens me!” Hannah whirled upon him, opening the blanket and exposing his handprint, as well as a clear view of her breasts. “Would you care to explain to me how this got here?”

  Taggart coughed; his hands tightened to a white-knuckled grip on his blade as he lowered his arms to his sides. “Ye were sick with a fever.” Taggart cleared his throat again, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes and trying to look anywhere but at Hannah’s chest. “Ye had to be healed. Ye were delirious, out of your mind. Trust me. Dammit, woman, there was just no other way.”

  Snapping the blanket back around her body, Hannah fixed Taggart with her best I-don’t-think-so looks. Did he really think she was that gullible? “So I was delirious with a fever? You really expect me to believe that?” How stupid did he think she was? She might’ve been sick, but what could she have done that would’ve been so bad? Babbled a little bit of nonsense maybe?